We Can Be Beautiful (Both Inside And Out)
by StarlitWave10
Summary: Beauty and the Beast AU. A prince with the heart of a monster. A girl who's too clever for her own good. The old tale like you've never seen it before. But love crosses all sorts of boundaries...right?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Hey guys! A lovely anon left this prompt in my askbox, and here is chapter 1! I did move away from the movie a little bit, but I'm going to try and follow the movie more or less from here on out. I do enjoy throwing in my own little scenes whenever I do an AU, though...muahaha, we shall have to see.

Oh yeah, and I don't own Les Miserables or Beauty and The Beast…although I was a flower in my high school production of the latter. I was a gorgeous flower

_Eyes are tricky little things. Whatever sight first greets them, they immediately hold as true. Some can outsmart their eyes, and they learn to look past solely what they see. _

_ The Prince, however, had not yet learned to do so._

_ It was raining that night. A harsh, thundering rain that sounded like giants' footsteps on his roof, with lightening brightening up the sky to make it seem like the sun had awoken early. _

_ No one could ever describe the Prince as kind. Charming, yes, but there was something hidden in his bright blue eyes. A concealed horror, one that was waiting patiently to be released. _

_ An old woman came to his grand door that night. A servant came up to his chamber and told him that she had requested to see him specifically, and would not be turned aside. Out of curiosity, the Prince complied. _

_ The old woman was much more dreary in real life than in his imagination. All she wanted was a place to stay for the night. The Prince's cold heart, the one that sent ice instead of blood through his veins, turned her away. She would not be deterred, however, and presented a red rose as payment for a dry roof over her head until the rain ceased its torrent. _

_ Once again, the Prince refused to allow her to stay, saying that he could never permit such an old, dreadful-looking woman to reside in his castle. She gave him one more chance, saying that beauty was found within, and for him not to trust solely what his eyes told him. _

_But the Prince's ears remained deaf to her pleas, and his hand waved her aside once again. The old woman's black cloak suddenly tumbled to the floor like a curtain revealing the opening act of a play, allowing a beautiful enchantress to arise from its depths. The Prince, deeply ashamed of his actions, fell to his knees and begged for forgiveness._

_But the enchantress had seen enough of his cold heart. To punish him, the enchantress placed a spell upon the castle, and everyone who lived there. The coldhearted young man will only become human once he has learned to love another. The Prince was transformed into a hideous beast, complete with wolfish teeth and a haggard mane. He locked himself in his castle, with only a magic mirror as his guide to the outside world. The rose the enchantress had offered him stood silently upon a table in a hidden room, slowly, but surely, dying. _

_Years passed, and the Prince lost hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?_

He was a charming young man, capable of being terrible. That was what all anyone knew about him. Or _suspected _to know about him. The Prince was a fantasy (some mothers believed that he was nothing more), and hearing any sort of tale about him was the most popular form of entertainment for most of the young girls.

One such girl was standing up on a box, her arms flying along with her red lips. Her lengthy brown hair trailed behind her on a breeze as her words swam through the crowd, coming to rest upon the ears of every member of her audience.

"I was just out in the woods gathering mushrooms," she began. "When all of a sudden, I heard a twig snap behind me!" The audience gasped audibly, and it looked like one girl fainted.

"I turned, holding my basket in front of me, like this." She demonstrated, and received an appropriate and astounded "Ooh" in response.

"My eyes saw nothing, at first. Only darkness." The girl widened her eyes for dramatic effect. "Then…suddenly…_BAM!"_

The crowd jumped. "He stepped into the moonlight, and I saw his face…" She paused. Everyone leaned forward, the girls in the back standing on their tiptoes.

The young girl's eyes traveled to the back of the crowd, and caught someone's nod. A half-smile formed on her face.

"It was only for a moment…but his blue eyes were gorgeous!" She clapped her hands together and squealed with the crowd, disappearing into the hoard of curious girls as she stepped down from her makeshift stage. Two minutes later, she reappeared at the back of the crowd, next to an elderly man with a large cloak draped over his body.

"Well done, Éponine," he murmured as they strolled through the busy streets of Paris. "You gave quite a show."

Éponine's smile had vanished. "Did you get what you wanted, Father?"

The man grinned, showing broken, yellowed teeth. "Indeed I did, my daughter. It seems we will eat like kings tonight!"

Silence met expectant ears. The cloaked man turned, only to find that his daughter had vanished from his side. His beady eyes searched the streets, but encountered only strangers amongst familiar-looking faces.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **Wow…thank you soooo much for the follows and the favorites, everyone! I've never gotten such a positive response from a story, you have no idea what this did to my self-esteem (and my ego went through the roof XD). But seriously, thank you for the wonderful response. This is a bit of a filler chapter, I suppose, because I'm trying to stay by the movie, but then what took about two minutes in the movie filled up about three pages…the next chapter will be more exciting, I promise. :D

And now, on to chapter 2!

It was nothing special, really. Just a languid-looking bookshop, its walls sagging and windows half-closed like children's eyes when they stay up past their bedtime. The door looked ready to crumble, even as Éponine gently nudged the door open with her fingertips and as the heat followed her in like a shadow.

"_Monsieur_ Fauchelevant?" She called out into the dark corners of the library. While to some they appeared terrifying, to Éponine, they were just another secret she wished to take apart.

At her call, an aging man with dark eyes appeared from behind a bookshelf, his face lighting up upon seeing her.

"Ah, my dear Éponine! What a pleasant…well, I cannot call this a surprise, now can I? Seeing as you've made it a point to visit me almost every week."

Éponine chuckled. "I have found that books – and you, of course, _Monsieur _– are much better company than most of the people in town."

The older man gave her a smile. "Well then, what shall it be today?"

Éponine's eyes flew over the bookshelves, taking in words and decorations she both recognized and didn't. "Have you got anything new?"

_Monsieur _Fauchelevant shook his head. Éponine's face never lost its grin. "Then I guess I'll just have to borrow this one."

Her slim fingers reached for a blue novel, a thin book her hungry eyes had devoured over and over. A laugh attacked her from behind.

"But you've read it twice already!"

"But it's my favorite! There are daring swordfights on every other page, and a bit of romance here and there, and, _oh!_ and magic, _Monsieur!_ The magic in this book is possibly the most wonderful thing you could imagine…and there is a prince. A prince in disguise."

A smirk crawled onto his face.

"Well…if you love it all that much, and I can tell that you do…consider it yours."

It took a moment, but when the _Monsieur's _toothysmile didn't falter, Éponine ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck in an energetic embrace.

"Oh, thank you, _Monsieur!_ Thank you thank you- But wait," she broke off suddenly, her eyes confused. "How can I repay you for this?"

To her surprise, the old man laughed once again. "No payment, my dear. All I ask is for you to enjoy it. I insist," he added upon seeing her eyes ready for another argument.

Éponine couldn't help herself; her face broke into a massive grin and she rushed out of the store, _Monsieur_ Fauchelevant chuckling at her back. One moment later, the young girl ran back and in and kissed the old man on the cheek.

"Thanks again, _Monsieur_!" She cried over her shoulder before rushing back out into the busy street filled with voices and the occasional order of a baguette.

With the book's familiar weight settled in her arms, Éponine couldn't help but smile, even as whispers carried through the wind and swirled around her. The sun beat down upon the back of her neck, and cries of "Bonjour!" scrambled up houses and snuck in through newly opened windows as they followed her down the street.

…_The witch, a tricky woman with all of the magic in the world at her fingertips, hissed at the sight of the prince. He had come on a white horse, prepared to defeat any evil being that dared come between him and his princess. The young girl in question was waiting on the stairs, one arm outstretched, as if trying to reach her beloved. _

_ The prince's eyes met hers as the wind swirled his thick black hair into his eyes. He brushed it aside and turned to face the witch once more, her face now red with rage._

_ "You'll never get to your lovely princess in time, dear boy," she cackled, her voice striking the prince in the face like the thorns of a deadly rose. "I have poisoned her room, you see, hee hee hee! Soon she will be dead, and all mine!"_

_ The prince raised his sword as his eyes flashed, and, as if he and the horse were one, his beast reared up on its hind legs, its nostrils flaring-_

"Why, _ma petit belle,_ you are looking as lovely as always!"

A heavy sigh escaped the brunette's lips and flopped onto the ground. _And I was just getting to the best part._ She turned to her interrupter, a smile on her lips and dagger in her eyes. "_Merci, _Montparnasse. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

An arm with enough hair to create a forest grabbed her own and wrenched the book from her fingertips.

"What have we here, _ma cherie?"_ The voice left behind a trail of slime.

"It's called a book, 'Parnasse. You should try reading one sometime, they're quite interesting." The dark-haired man flipped through the pages.

"You're holding it upside down." He coughed and turned the book right-side up. "Of course, Éponine. I was merely testing you." A few more pages fluttered under his merciless fingers.

"But how can you read this? There are no pictures!" His eyes squinted, as if they could not fathom the idea that these words could _possibly _be more interesting than him.

"That's what makes the book so interesting. You can imagine all of those wondrous places yourself." _Why am I even arguing with this idiot?_

Montparnasse smirked. "Marry me, and you won't need that little imagination of yours to get to a wondrous place."

Éponine scoffed, the heat finally getting to her. "Montparnasse, may I have my book back now?"

Montparnasse flipped through the collection of words one more time, a mixture of disgust and pure confusion upon his face. "Honestly, 'Ponine. You should grow up and begin thinking about the real life. And get your head out of these books!" The book slid out of his grasp, tumbling down into a muddy puddle.

"Oops." He shot Éponine a nasty grin, one that made his face look very much like a monster that hid in the shadows of a child's closet, and sauntered away, winking at the girls that swooned as he passed by. Her eyes narrowed as they followed his passage down the street a moment more.

_There's got to be something more than this life,_ Éponine thought as she picked up the book with two of her fingers. _I want adventure in that great wide…somewhere. All of these stories…why can't mine be similar to something found in a book? With jewels and mysteries and magic spells…anything but this life. Anything but this._

A sudden image of a small shack on the side of town burst into her mind. _Oh yes, anything but this. _


	3. Chapter 3

Home is a subjective term. To some, it means good food, a warm bed, and a mother to tuck them in at night. To some, it means a better option than sleeping on the streets.

Éponine's fingers lingered on the door, as if by postponing the inevitable, she might open the door and find food on the table, a grinning father with a story on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. A tanned mother, with no trace of gray in her skin or her hair, her eyes free of sorrow and tears.

A little sister with flowers in her hair, perhaps three brothers all accounted for. A horse bought with their hard-earned money, rather than a heap of skin and bones they stole from a farmer who'd been too drunk to notice.

Her eyes moved up like molasses to glance toward the merciless sun. Despite it being the middle of November, it was beating down upon the village, a master disappointed with the way his slaves were acting. Éponine narrowed her eyes at the offending star, a promise to never back down from anything that was above her...or anyone.

The sun had lost another servant to the shadows.

Thenardier shifted his head an inch to the right when he heard the door screech open. A glimpse of sunlight, then darkness flooded the small cottage once more.

"Stupid girl, where did you run off to?" One hand clutched the table, an aid for standing. "Off with your books again, I suppose." Éponine held her head high and made to walk past her father without satisfying him with a response, but his nimble fingers grabbed her wrist.

"You are never to run off on me again. Do I make myself clear?" Éponine stared at the wall, unmoving. Thenardier tightened his grip on her wrist, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. "Do I make myself clear?" The whisper scratched her ears.

"Yes, Father," Éponine stated monotonously.

"Good. I have allowed you too much freedom lately." Éponine didn't need to turn around to see the hyena-like smile that decorated his face. His breath flew and settled like a thick dust upon her neck. "Montparnasse seems like an adequate solution to keep you under control..."

Éponine's grip on her book tightened so much, she feared for a moment she might create a dent in the binding. Finally, her father released her wrist, and she let it swing by her side nonchalantly.

"I must go on a business trip. The Patron-Minette informed me of a potential...client up north. I will send for you if I find the need."

Warm breath danced upon her neck once more, and Éponine shivered. "And I'm fairly sure the client is a bachelor...you can look forward to an invitation, my dear." With the heavy laughter that sounded like a thousand rocks rumbling down a mountain in her ears and on her back, Éponine threw open the door and ran into her room.

* * *

The horse was being more of a pain than usual.

The usual meant a couple grunts, accompanied by a whinny here or there. But today, the beast just would not cooperate. Thenardier slammed his heels into the horse's side and slapped the side of its head, succeeding in getting Phillipe to move a few inches before he had to repeat the process all over again.

Thenardier wrapped his cloak tighter around himself. The weather seemed to have finally realized it was the end of November, and the temperature had dropped tremendously over the past few hours. If the lanky man had to guess, he would say that the temperature was about 0 . Celsius.

After what felt like hours of grumbling and groaning and general whinnying all about, the horse stopped in the middle of the path.

"Not again, you stupid animal." Thenardier gritted his teeth. "I should've cut you up for soup years ago. Or at least had my wife do it." He slipped out of the saddle and on to the ground.

"Lazy! Stupid! Useless! Animal!" With each exclamation, Thenardier landed a kick to the horse's leg, but Phillipe merely flicked his ears, as if listening for something other than the complaining of an old man.

Thenardier stopped after about ten kicks, breathing heavily and looking very disgruntled, while Phillipe merely stood calmly, with only his ears giving the occasional twitch.

Then, as if his calling suddenly came from the heavens, Philippe bolted back down the way they'd come, with Thenardier's curses riding on his back.

When his voice grew hoarse, the graying man grabbed the edges of his frayed cloak and held on so that the harsh wind wouldn't become overeager and carry it away. Muttering curses under his breath, he turned his back to the wind and trudged onward, swears flying from his mouth in an avalanche of sounds.

Snow began to blanket the ground in its chilly embrace. The trees bent beneath its will, but Thenardier kept putting one foot in front of the other, resolved to continue moving and not lose to a thing as simple as Nature.

He finally stopped, however, once he stubbed his toe on something metallic and merciless. Thenardier's dark eyes swerved upward to gaze upon an intricate gate, one full of designs and interwoven metals. With the lessening of the light, Thenardier was only able to tell that there was a gate, and behind that gate, there was a tall palace. Darkness shielded the truth behind his eyes, that the lawn had overgrown and that one half of the gate was barely hanging on to the rest of the structure.

He traced his fingers over the metal, eyes glinting in the promise of riches that may come. He could sneak inside, find gather up as much treasure as he could find without alerting the owners, run through the woods-

A howl flew through the forest and froze his blood much faster than any snowstorm could have done. Even the sneakiest con man cannot con Death.

_Perhaps the horse wasn't so stupid after all _raced through his mind as Thenardier's shivering hands fiddled with the gate. His fingers quaked and sent pain-filled panic through his mind, all coherent thought abandoning him and one word sticking out in his mind:

_RUN._

But the small part that had survived on the streets all these years, the part that ignored the pounding fear and wide eyes and shaking hands, it knew that running would only bring him to Death's door sooner. That part took control, hammering at the door and slamming his hands against it while the howls drew nearer and louder with every smoky breath.

The metal didn't budge, it seemed frozen in place, he could feel the wolf's teeth digging into his ankle, a graze on his neck-

Thenardier fell forwards as the gate tumbled beneath his fingertips, his face greeting the snow with something akin to a kiss. He scrambled up to his feet and stumbled over to the palace door. Despair began to leak through his bones as he realized that getting this door open will be magnanimously more difficult than it was making the gate all over, but his stubborn legs moved forward anyways. That small part of his brain wasn't quite finished with him yet.

It told him to sprint towards the door with his arms outstretched. Thenardier complied, even though he was fairly certain this would only result in broken fingers, easier prey-

The door flew open just before his fingers reached its intricate designs. Without missing a beat, Old Thenardier ran over the threshold into a different world, his fingers still outstretched before him.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Woo, chapter four! This is, sadly, the last chapter you guys will be getting for a while. I'm going on a six week trip to Europe, and I won't have access to the internet, or my laptop, during that time. I will, however, have my notebook, so I will do my best to get as much written down as I can. **

**I hope you enjoy Chapter 4!**

The castle was enormous. As Thenardier subconsciously wrapped his rags closer around his body, the golden walls and exquisitely carved hand rails seemed to edge in even closer, their beauty almost stifling.

The darkness buried itself in his hair and under his fingernails as his clever fingers wrapped around little trinkets and gold pieces and a candelabra with a mouth-?

"Bonjour, monsieur!"

With a cry that landed somewhere between terrified and fascinated, Thenardier thrust aside the candelabra and searched under his jacket for a weapon.

"Well, it's not really daytime anymore, is it? Bonsoir sounds more accurate, don't you think Combeferre?"

Thenardier forgot all about obtaining a weapon and instead scrambled to find something to hold on to as a talking _clock _walked into the room.

"Bonsoir, bonjour- doesn't matter much when we can't leave the castle, now does it? Why'd you call-"

The talking clock - the candelabra had called him Combeferre – turned and finally noticed the aging man leaning awkwardly against a table, his knuckles turning white from clenching it so tightly.

"Courfeyrac? May I see you in the kitchen for a moment?" With an eerie calmness, the clock grabbed the candelabra and pulled him out of the room. Their whispers reached Thenardier's ears as he inched forward, hands searching once again in his pockets for some kind of weapon. His mouth began to water at the thought of the money that a talking clock might fetch him.

"Courf, I told you not to let anyone in-"

"But he was cold, and the wolves were going to eat him! I stayed out of sight at first, but he looked like he could use some help..."

There was a slight pause in which the clock sighed and stole a quick glance towards the imposing staircase, and then: "Fine, he can stay the night. As long as he stays downstairs and the Master _never_ finds out. You know how he feels about strangers..."

As the candelabra reemerged from the hallway, Thenardier heard the clock mutter,

"Funny, how he seems determined to do nothing but help them, but God forbid one wanders into his home."

_I've gone mad, _he thought while his fingers itched to reach out and grab the candelabra. _I must've gone completely insane._

"Monsieur, if you'll follow me, please." The candelabra gave a slight bow and extended his...well, one can't call it a hand. He waved one of his candlesticks as an invitation for Thenardier to follow him.

He thought of the wolves' teeth and claws and hurriedly followed the one called Courfeyrac.

_You're thinking of these things as people now?_ He thought to himself. _You truly have gone mad._

Even so, the castle was warmer than the stinging snow and upon reaching the parlor, he noticed that the candelabra had lit a fire in the fireplace.

"Have a seat, Monsieur." The candelabra said and indicated a grand, purple chair right in front of the warm fire.

Thenardier eyed the chair with a wary glance for a moment before rushing forward and plopping himself down with a satisfied sigh. The fire was warm and Thenardier relaxed enough to unwrap his cloak from around his body slightly. He could hear the two..._things _whispering near him. He could see with hid own two eyes that they were a candelabra and a clock...but they _spoke. _With a warm fire in front of him and solid, silent objects hidden inside his cloak, Thenardier's mind was finally able to digest exactly what he had seen.

He opened one eye slightly and stared at the two objects in front of him. They were definitely moving, and the sounds he was hearing...well, they certainly _sounded_ like human speech. He could understand the words, and the clock - Combeferre - was definitely _scoffing_ at something the candelabra – Courfeyrac – had said.

"Courf, you _know_ how the Master gets-"

"He doesn't like being called the Master, remember? He prefers 'Enjolras' now-"

"He's in control, isn't he? He still orders us around, forbids us from leaving the castle. We were never close, not like brothers are, but he used to listen to my advice. Now he just shuts himself away in that room of his, staring all day at that damn rose.

"No, Courf, he's still very much a Prince in my mind." Combeferre added with a wary glance towards the stairs.

"Are you comfortable, Monsieur?" The overly cheery voice next to his ear made Thenardier jump and his teeth clatter together. Apparently, the candelabra was adept at catching eavesdroppers in the act.

Unsure of how he was supposed to respond to a kitchen appliance, Thenardier muttered, "Yes, like a babe."

Courfeyrac smiled. "Brilliant. Now, if you're hungry-"

"No, absolutely not!" Thenardier turned to find the clock inches away from his own face. "You let him into the castle, you let him sit in the Master's chair, and now you want to feed him too?!"

Combeferre threw a glance at the old man, who instantly made his face look as tired and as pitiful as possible. The clock gave him a quick once-over and sighed. "What the Master doesn't know won't hurt him, right?"

As soon as Combeferre finished uttering his words, a great roar rose up from the heart of the castle and ran down the stairs, coming to a halt in the form of an enormous, shadowed figure right behind the elegant chair.

Courfeyrac managed, "M-Master, I-I didn't think-"

"WHO IS SITTING IN MY CHAIR?"

Thenardier's arms turned to jelly, and the chair was suddenly the most uncomfortable piece of furniture he had ever sat in.

"N-Now rem-remember what Madame Huchloup said, you kn-know, about y-your anger-"

"Master, please, he had been caught out in the cold-"

"Oh, that makes everything okay." Thenardier, to his surprise, began shaking even faster, as the soft voice seemed even more terrifying than the angry roar. The figure grabbed Thenardier's shaking shoulders, and with a wide-eyed glance he noticed that the arms were very, _very_ hairy.

"You were cold? Don't worry, I'll make sure your new accommodations will be _toasty _warm." With a sinking heart, Thenardier noticed the fire in the fireplace shrink, and then go out all together, leaving him in utter darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! So…how's school? Heh heh. Senior year is annoying and full of work, and I am SO sorry that this chapter took so long to write. It was difficult, for some reason, to get Ep to the castle. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that the wait was worth it! **

As the sun rose, the sky turned the color of burnt meat, the kind Eponine saw the butcher throwing out every afternoon. Three days, and still no word from her father. She stretched her arms over her head, reveling in the strange feeling of freedom. Something nagged in the back of her brain, something that sent cold shivers down her spine. Eponine knew they had nothing to do with the bitter cold that was currently swallowing up the little town, but she wouldn't let herself think otherwise.

As she wrapped a shawl around her thin shoulders, a familiar whinny caught her ears. She learned out the window, wincing from the burst of cold air that slammed into her face.

"Philippe!" She shouted the horse's nameaas the great, white animal charged up the lawn, his strong legs leaving behind deep prints in the snow. The horse tossed its head, neighing wildly as it galloped up to the shack.

"Eponine! That animal listens to you, shut him up! Your father doesn't like him making this much noise…" Mdme. Thenardier's voice trailed off into indistinct mumbles as Eponine rushed from the house and onto the lawn, hands up in an attempt to calm down the frantic horse.

"Philippe, it's all right." She grabbed the horse's reins and forced the horse's head down to her level. That was when she suddenly noticed the lack of a drunken, hoarse drawl. "Father…" All logic aside, Eponine yanked the reins down towards the ground. "Philippe, where's Father?!" She was not surprised to find that her cheeks were dry. With a rapid heartbeat, one that greatly contrasted with the early hours, Eponine ran back into the house.

"Mother! I'm…" Her voice faltered. Her mother had never cared about her whereabouts before. Why should she start now?

Mdme. Thenardier nursed a bottle as Eponine grabbed some food from the pantry, and whispered a quick goodbye to Azelma. "I'll try and convince Gavroche to come visit," she said to the wide-eyed, younger girl before turning around and running back out of the house, not even hearing the words blown out in a whisper, "But he never comes…"

The wind blew ever stronger, and Eponine couldn't help but worry for her father. There was some sense of family left, in some small part of her heart. And, horrible man or not, he was her father.

"Okay, Philippe, let's go find Father. Who knows, maybe he won't make me go out at night anymore." But only the air heard her prayer, only God heard her whisper. Even so, deep underground, in a jail cell constructed of stone and hopelessness, Thenardier wrapped his arms around himself and, finally feeling the weight of the lonely pressed upon him, began to sob.

The forest road would around and around, like a loosening corkscrew on the side of an old house. Eponine's teeth chattered, and she would have started swearing colorful, unique phrases had she been able to speak through her teeth. Phillip's comfortable trot matched up with her chattering, and she forced herself to focus on his shuffling through the snow rather than her rising worry about finding her father's cold, lifeless body somewhere in the woods, partially deformed by whatever beasts lurk out there…

As if in answer to her thoughts, a wolf's howl echoed through the night. Philippe reared up onto his hind legs, and Eponine's heart quickened even more as she glanced around and saw only the dark trees.

She had never considered herself to be religious, but she was praying to whatever God existed that she would make it out of this forest alive.

As her dark eyes danced through the darkness, she suddenly a sliver of moonlight being reflected off of…something. Whatever it was, it looked distinctly man-made, and not at all wolfish.

Unconsciously, Eponine's hand went to her throat, her slender fingers gracing an old present. Monsieur Fauchelevant had a daughter, a blonde with a voice like a lark, and she had noticed how often Eponine had come in from the cold, all alone and shivering. Eponine desperately wanted to hate her, because of a love long lost and a shattered heart, but it was impossible to hate Cosette. And as her fingers wrapped around her hand-knitted scarf, Eponine's hate all but vanished. When yet another howl sent shivers down her spine, the dark-haired girl found herself wanting to be back in that old bookshop, with Cosette trailing on about how wonderful Marius is, and how lucky she was to have a friend like Eponine who had been able to help them find each other, and the beauty of life in general. And during Cosette's monologue, Eponine truly saw how beautiful love and life was.

But that beauty was never meant for her.

Philippe reared up on his hind legs once again and Eponine was thrown from her thoughts. A great stone castle loomed in front of, illuminated in a ghostly light from the moon. The gate was partially open, and Eponine shoved it further aside. Philippe eyes darted back and forth as she tied his reins to one of the gate's metal bars. "If we find Father, you're the one who's gonna have to carry him home, Philippe," she whispered to the horse, although who she was trying to hide from, Eponine couldn't tell. But there was an air about the castle, one of secrets and magic, and she had no wish to begin shouting at the top of her lungs.

The door groaned open to show a mouth of darkness, the kind that likes to hide behind stars. Eponine ignored Philippe's whinnying and gazed toward the sliver of moonlight. It had landed on a wooden door. The dark-haired girl of shadows melted through the night and opened the door, teeth glinting for a moment under the light of the moon in the form of a hesitant grimace.

The darkness flowed from behind and surrounded her as she opened the door, and it hugged her from all angles as she began her descent. The ancient story of the prince came to mind and she wondered if perhaps this had been his castle, at one point. After all, he hadn't been seen in the town for years, and for all she knew she was sneaking around for nothing-

"Eponine? Eponine, is that you?" A familiar voice croaked out from the darkness and Eponine jumped, hands clenched into fists for a moment before relaxing.

"Father…I'm so glad to have found you," she whispered to the darkness. A distinct scuffling reached her ears, as though Thenardier was scuttling upon the ground.

"Th-There's a monster here, Eponine. Quick, grab whatever treasure you can and-"

"Treasure?!" Eponine retorted. "Father, I rode all the way here to get you home, not leave you for some gold like a petty thief."

"Then I should have trained you better," Thenardier lamented. "It's just, Eponine, my dear, _please-_"

His voice cracked and Eponine half-turned to see his face illuminated by a shaft of moonlight. To hear him beg like that, maybe there was something else here in this abandoned castle aside from ghosts and treasure.

Eponine opened her mouth, ready to explain to her father exactly _why_ she wasn't going to leave him there when a breath of hot air began to dance upon her neck.

Shivers ran down her spine as she froze, fear taking hold of her fingers and her stomach feeling as though it was about to erupt.

"What, pray tell, are you doing in my castle?" Eponine met her father's defeated eyes as a low voice that resembled more of a growl crawled through her ears.

She gulped as some feeling began to return to her fingers. She could feel them shaking.

"I came for my father," she stated, head held high, eyes never leaving her father's.

Something rushed from behind her and grabbed her father's collar, but remained hidden within the shadows as the moonlight smashed and shattered itself upon her father's ghostly white face.

"I caught your father trespassing around my castle. And that it _UNACCEPTABLE!_" No longer a soft growl, the voice transformed into a roar. Thenardier looked as though he had tears in his eyes. Eponine forced herself to stare at the shadows where she believed the stranger to be hiding.

And as much as she despised him, he was her father…

"Let me take his place," she asserted. Thenardier's eyes widened.

"What?" The growl had returned.

Thenardier began flailing his arms, as if to shield his daughter from the Shadow's gaze. "No, no, she didn't meant it, she's crazy, she's always been crazy, just my stupid girl-"

"_SILENCE!_"

Despite the darkness, Eponine could feel the Shadow's eyes boring into hers. "He's an old man," she continued. "Not very interesting to have around."

The darkness let go of Thenardier and he toppled to the ground. "Why are you doing this?" The whisper emerged from the shadows.

Eponine met her father's eyes one last time. He shook his head slightly, but Eponine had given up on listening to her father a long time ago.

"He's my father." The words flowed from her mouth without a pause, without the slightest bit of hesitation. She stood tall, eyes never leaving the darkness. Thenardier glanced from the shadows to his daughter, who stood partially illuminated.

"On one condition, however," she began. Eponine took a deep breath, her mind doubting if this was what she truly wanted. But her imagination was running ramped, and she just had to know the face of the monster who was going to be her host for…well, for the rest of her life.

"Step into the light," she finally said.

Thenardier tried to take control one final time. "No, please!" he begged. "Eponine, you're making a huge mistake-"

"I know what I'm doing, Father. I wish to know." _I think…I think I want to know…I just can't live with the nightmare of not knowing whom I've just sold my life to…_

The shadows blurred, shivered, moved. The moonlight seemed to shift away, as though it was frightened of being used for such a terrifying purpose. But the Shadows finally caught it, and wove the stream of white to form a red jacket, a dirty blond man-

Two blue eyes peered out from a mass of hair, and a gasp jumped out of Eponine's throat. But it was not solely the piercing blue eyes that made her feel as though she were standing naked.

It was the face that could not be called a face. Shaggy and scratched, the face formed that of an animal, a Beast. Eponine forced herself to keep her eyes focused on his, but she couldn't stop her legs from shaking, her throat from closing up. The darkness swirled and swelled, crawling inside her and through her mouth and tying her hands behind her back.

"There? Are you satisfied?" The Beast growls. "You'd better get used to it, because you're going to be seeing this face for a long time."

"You don't have a face," she whispered. "You've got hair, and teeth, and eyes that burn. But that is not a face."

The Beast's blue eyes burned and his teeth transformed into a grimace for a moment before he slipped back into the shadows once more.

"Guards!" He barked. "Get this man out of my sight. We have a…new guest to take care of." Thenardier's flailing arms tried to grasp the darkness as his pleas followed the Beast into the darkness. Eponine's eyes followed her father, and her freedom, out of the room. And once the door slammed shut, once the moonlight was vanquished by shutters, did she fall onto the floor, a waterfall upon her face.


End file.
